Saving You
by PugNTurtle
Summary: What happens when the one you love is hurt? Takes place after Targets of Obsession. Catherine/Lou
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of the characters used in this story. Please no sue. I'm a poor overworked, underpaid twenty-seven year old!

Spoilers: Targets of Obsession

Pairings: Lou Vartann/Catherine Willows

Notes: First of all, thank you to Heather for beta-in this monstrosity. You are an amazing person and I appreciate all of your help, support, suggestions, knowledge, ideas, tips, encouragement, and transfusion information. You are the absolute best! Also, please take the time to review. I am my own worst critic, but I love how this turned out. I'd love to see what y'all think. Finally, I am thinking of extending this (when I have time!). Let me know if you like it and it's worth continuing.

Thanks, and enjoy! –Katie

~/~

It seemed ironic that at this point in her life, she was praying.

She was an ex-stripper, a former drug addict, a single mother, and the lead of the grave shift for the Las Vegas Crime Lab located in the Las Vegas Metro Police Department. Those were among so many other things she was either proud of or not so proud of. She had seen hundreds of dead bodies, kids who were abused, and had even shot a few people; however, she never turned to prayer.

Until now.

With the bomb ticking down to its final seconds, Catherine Willows prayed.

Her eyes squeezed shut, she held Lou to her chest. The wound to his leg had stopped bleeding, thankfully, but he was still in danger. Catherine felt as if she held on to him tight enough, they would never be separated, be it through loss of blood or a bomb strong enough to shake the building to its foundation.

Catherine prayed to God, hoping with all her heart that this wasn't her time. She had blown off a call from Lindsey just an hour ago, more focused on the case. Now, she may not have a chance to ever talk to her daughter again. Guilt crept through her bones, and Catherine thought of all the times that she had let Lindsey down. She prayed that she would have another chance to talk to her daughter, to tell her how much she loved her, how proud she was of her.

Then, the nightmare in the warehouse was over.

She heard the ominous ticking stopping, and wondered if she was imagining things. Surely, stopping a bomb with seconds to go only happened in the movies…

Moments later, Nick was in front of her, babbling that they were okay, that Lou was okay, that they were going to get out of there soon.

Catherine stood up, her jaw hanging open. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know if she could – _should _– believe it. She attempted to say something, anything, but all it came out was a choked sob.

"Hey, come here," Nick said. "It's okay."

Before Catherine could protest, Nick's arms were around her. She wanted to cry, to sob, to let out all of her emotion about nearly dying. She couldn't, though. Her thoughts were not on the strong arms holding her; rather, they were on the man who was lying on the ground, in pain, still close to death.

"_GET DOWN!" _

Kip's panicked yell barely registered to the redhead as she swung her head in his direction, her mouth dropping open. Catherine was still processing his words when Nick pulled her to the ground, attempting to shield her body with his own. With strength she didn't know she possessed, Catherine ripped away from him, diving towards Lou, and covering his upper body with her own. Catherine moved to shield his legs as well, but it was too late.

The explosion was deafening and forceful. It sent pieces of metal, wood, and other debris flying towards Catherine, Lou, and Nick.

She felt Nick's hand on her back, keeping her down where she would be safe. Not like she had any plans on standing at the moment anyway. She cringed as she felt objects reigning down on her. Catherine whimpered softly as she felt flames lick through the plywood that they were hiding behind, biting at the sensitive skin of her hand. She pulled her hand back, only to wince as something heavy fell on it.

Catherine forced her eyes open, trying to make sure that everyone was okay, but it was too bright. It was so bright that she couldn't focus. She could feel Nick's hand, still against her back, and Lou underneath her, so she knew that they were still together. Catherine needed to do something, _anything_, or they wouldn't make it out of there.

Slamming her eyes shut against the offending light, she lifted her head. Her ears were ringing, and everything seemed muted. However, she somehow knew that there weren't anymore bombs. She shuddered, wondering just how she was going to get the two unmoving men to safety with an injured hand.

Catherine felt, more than heard, the second blast, an aftershock that shook her to her very core. Her eyes were still slammed shut, and for that she was grateful, because she knew from the last time that she opened her eyes the light would be too bright.

However, she didn't see the large object falling from the ceiling, striking her face and head, hard.

Catherine Willows was knocked out before her head landed on Louis Vartann's chest.

~/~

She felt warm.

That was the first thought that ran through Catherine's head. She was laying on someone who was soft, and she felt comfortable and safe.

Then, her senses clicked in. She quickly took in her surroundings and felt her adrenaline ramp up.

The first thing that she noticed was the pain. The pain was coursing through her cheek and head, along with her right hand. She wondered briefly if it was broken.

Her nose took in the smell of smoke, which made some sort of sense to her foggy brain. After all, a bomb had gone off. She wondered if there was a fire in the building, and if they should evacuate. She couldn't hear any alarms going off, not that the hellhole they were in even had them. It was then that she realized her ears were ringing. If there was an alarm going off, she probably wouldn't know it.

Catherine didn't dare open her eyes, her memory filtering back to the blinding white light that had invaded her vision the last time she opened them. Instead, she kept her eyes closed, feeling the chest below her stomach slowly rise. She smiled to herself.

_As long as Lou is alive, I'll go back to sleep. I'll just forget about the pain, and the ringing of my ears. Lou will keep me safe._

She started to drift off, but she felt herself being roughly pulled away from Lou. Her heart pounded slightly as she winced. The sudden movement sent shockwaves of pain through her head as her desire to protect Lou was almost overwhelming. Catherine forced her bleary eyes open warily, expecting to see that horrible white light again. It was a bit more of a relief to see and feel an oxygen mask being placed on her face. Instinctively, she raised her right hand, holding the object in place as air that she had not realized she desperately needed flowed into her lungs.

Her head was pounding and her hand was throbbing, and she felt like her brain was going to explode. However, she still faintly heard the words of the paramedic that made her heart stop.

Life.

Threatening.

Injuries.

She glanced at Lou, looking desperately for the rise and fall of his chest, but saw nothing. Fear gripped her entire body. With a shaky hand, she pulled the oxygen mask away from her face, not thinking as she slowly guided it toward Lou's face.

"Ma'am, you need to keep that on your face," the paramedic scolded gently, catching her hand. Catherine flinched as his hand covered her injured one, and she moaned slightly.

"He…needs…more," she managed to gasp. "Bullet. Leg. Artery maybe," she continued weakly. Talking was difficult, and was taking all of her energy. She felt lightheaded without the oxygen flowing into her lungs, but her thoughts were not on that. They were on the man that was next to her, clinging to life. She glanced over, relieved to see that Nick was moving, that he seemed to be in one piece. Catherine felt the sudden urge to explain their situation to the person who came to their aid, to explain how they had ended up in this position. "Explosion," was all she managed to desperately add, her head lolling to the side as she looked at Lou. She hoped that the paramedic understood what she was trying to tell him.

But the paramedic replaced the oxygen mask on her face, using the elastic to hold it in place. Before she could take it off in protest, she saw one being placed on Lou. Catherine smiled to herself, laying her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes.

"Ma'am, you need to stay awake," The paramedic's voice was gentle yet firm. He shook her shoulder and Catherine opened her eyes irritably, mustering up her best glare to send at the young paramedic. She briefly wondered how old he was. He couldn't be older than thirty. Catherine groaned, thinking about the last time a young person in the field of emergency was there to "help" her. She ended up getting punched in the face and left lying in a pool of a victim's blood.

"What's wrong, Ms…Willows?" the young man seemed to finally have taken note of the name that was stitched on her vest. "Are you in pain?" He released the loop holding her gun holster, pulling the object away from her side so that she could lie more comfortably without her gun pressing into her hip.

"No, I'm fine," Catherine answered through the mask, which was somewhat the truth. The pounding in her head had subsided a bit, even if the burning in her hand hadn't. Her ears weren't ringing as badly as before. Words and sounds were starting to sound a lot clearer. She was able to think somewhat easier with oxygen flowing through her lungs. Wincing, she moved to sit up, using her uninjured hand to balance herself.

"Ms. Willows, you shouldn't try to move," the paramedic said gently.

His words fell on deaf ears, as Catherine sat up gingerly, testing her limbs cautiously. She shook her head carefully to clear it, looking at the young paramedic. "My cell phone is in the Denali in the parking lot. I need you to tell someone to call Captain Jim Brass," Catherine told him after releasing the mask. "Tell him to put an APB on Jason McCann. Also, please call Greg Sanders, and tell him what happened. Tell him that we are on the way to the hospital, and that Nick and I are fine," Catherine continued.

A glance at Nick confirmed her words. The younger CSI seemed to be moving on his own and was talking to the paramedic, his words somewhat clear and movements fine. "We'll call with more information." She took another deep breath of oxygen before pulling it off her face.

"Now tell me what we need to do in order to save his life," Catherine said steadily as she looked at Lou Vartann.

The paramedic looked at Catherine with admiring eyes. This woman had just been through a very traumatic event, had a possibly broken hand and concussion, yet she was the one who was clearly in charge.

He smiled gently at Catherine, then looked at Lou's leg. "He's still breathing, and the bullet didn't nick an artery," the paramedic said. "He'd have bled out by now." He felt guilty when he saw the look of horror pass over Catherine's face. "His pulse is thready, but he's breathing on his own, which is good."

Catherine nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

"Look at the bullet wound. Is it still bleeding?" the paramedic instructed. Normally he would have done it himself, but he sensed that the redhead sitting across from him needed some sense of control.

Catherine glanced down, using her left hand to push the pieces of pants away. "It doesn't seem like it," she finally said.

"Okay, good," he replied. "It looks like he lost a lot of blood. Would you happen to know what blood type he is?"

"He's AB positive," Catherine replied quickly.

"Are you sure? That's pretty rare for someone to have that blood type," the paramedic said. "I can only use AB positive blood as a transfusion and I don't have any on the truck." A quick glance at Catherine showed that she was on the verge of hysterics at this statement. "How do you know his blood type, anyways?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood somewhat.

But Catherine wasn't laughing.

"I'm AB positive," Catherine ignored his joke. "Use my blood."

The paramedic smiled gently at Catherine. She was obviously much attached to the man lying on the ground, unconscious. "He should be okay until we get to the hospital," the paramedic told her. "Can you tell me anything else about him?"

"His name is Louis Vartann. Forty-eight years old. He's a detective with the LVMPD. No health problems," Catherine rattled off. She glanced at Nick, noting how dazed her second-in-command seemed to be after all, then said, "He's Nick Stokes. He's a CSI Level 3, LVMPD. No health problems either."

"And who are you?" the fireman asked gently.

His question caught her by surprise, and Catherine blinked. "I, uh…I'm Catherine Willows. CSI Level III Supervisor to the grave shift," she told him. "I'm fine."

"The burn and swelling of your hand, as well as that scrape on your face seem to tell a different story, but I'll take your word for it," the paramedic said with a small smile. "I'm Mike Smith. I've been a firefighter for eight years, and I volunteered for four years before that." Catherine nodded, her eyes flicking back towards Lou. "Hey," Mike said gently, drawing her attention back to him. "Catherine, I'm not going to let anything happen to your friend. He's going to be okay. But right now, I need you to settle back and let me do my job," Mike said softly. "I know you're probably used to being in charge, and taking care of these guys, but you need to dial it down a notch and trust me, okay?"

Catherine nodded weakly, and as if on cue, more paramedics entered the warehouse with two stretchers. She sat there, watching mutely as Mike and other colleagues worked quickly to stabilize Lou and Nick. A third stretcher was brought in, and she shook herself out of her trance, and she shook her head at the two females who accompanied it.

"I don't need that," Catherine said as strongly as she could. To prove her point, she stood, praying that her shaking knees wouldn't betray her words. "Help them, I'm fine."

One of the females opened her mouth to protest, but a quick shake of his head from Mike silenced them. Instead, the two females made themselves busy by helping the other paramedics to prepare Nick and Lou for transport. Catherine stood back, unsure of what to do in order to help.

Nick was put on the gurney first, and Catherine patted his hand as he looked up and met her eyes. She could tell Nick wanted to say something, probably along the lines of how she needed to be on a stretcher herself, but he just looked so exhausted.

"Get yourself fixed up, Nicky," Catherine said softly to him, patting his hand as he passed her. "I need you in one piece."

He nodded tiredly as they wheeled him out of the warehouse, then Catherine turned her attention to Lou, who was now on the stretcher. She forced her legs to move as they wheeled him out of the warehouse. They put Lou in the ambulance, and without waiting, Catherine launched herself into the back as well, perching herself along the bench next to him as the paramedics hooked him up to a blood pressure machine.

One of the female paramedics gave Mike a look of amusement that was twinged with annoyance, but he merely shrugged. "I told her she could ride along," Mike lied. "Now let's get going!"

With that, he hopped in the ambulance, pulling the doors shut behind him. He wasn't surprised to see Catherine attempting to roll up her sleeve, ready to donate to Lou as the ambulance started to move. He saw her blue eyes focused on the heart monitor, and knew what she was thinking. His heart was beating way too slow, his blood pressure way too low as well.

"Have you ever given blood, Catherine?" Mike asked gently as he double checked to make sure that Lou's stretcher was secure.

"Yes, I donate all the time," Catherine replied, frustration setting in as she couldn't roll up her sleeve with her injured hand. That was the truth. With as much death and injury as Catherine had seen throughout her career, she had decided several years ago that she was going to be a regular blood donor. It wasn't her favorite thing to do, as the first time she had donated, despite being an expert in blood spatter analysis she had embarrassingly passed out as she watched the tube fill with blood. That had not deterred her donating, though, as Catherine knew there was a shortage of blood donors across the country. That combined with the fact her blood was one of the rarest types constantly convinced Catherine to make monthly trips to the blood bank.

"Then you know it has to be processed, tested, and screened before it's sent to the recipient," Mike said softly as he hooked up Lou to a saline solution drip. He was showing signs of dehydration, and Mike wanted to get him prepared for surgery as quick as possible. "And besides, Catherine, unless your blood is in a private facility, the donor is usually anonymous," Mike added to fill the silence.

"I know, but…" Catherine allowed her voice to trail off, her eyes dropping to Lou's face briefly. She brought her eyes back to Mike, the sorrow settled in her eyes reflected back to the paramedic. "I just want him to be okay."

"You can still donate blood to him," Mike informed Catherine. "He will get a transfusion when we get to the hospital, but if you want to donate in case he needs it again, I can guide you in the right direction."

"Yeah, I'd like that," Catherine muttered, but Mike had a feeling her words were more of an automatic response rather than an actual comprehension of what he said. "Can he survive until we get to the hospital?" Catherine asked worriedly. "Do you know if they even have his blood there?"

"He should be okay," Mike attempted to reassure Catherine. "His stats are the same and he seems comfortable. And in regards to the blood, I'm sure that they have some there. Even though his blood is rare, the hospital usually has some in stock. It's people like you, unselfish people who donate all the time, who help people like him live. I hope that helps you feel a little better about that."

Catherine didn't seem reassured, but she nodded anyways. She gripped Lou's hand with her uninjured one, resisting the urge to smooth his hair back. She was almost afraid to touch him.

"While we are moving, do you mind if I take a look at your hand?" Mike asked her. Catherine nodded, offering her injured hand to him.

Mike took in the skin, noting the swelling and blistering. "It looks like something could be possibly broken, but without an x-ray, it's hard to tell. At this point, I'm more worried about the burn. It's a second degree burn, which isn't as bad as a third degree, but still painful, right?" At Catherine's nod of admittance, Mike continued, "I'll put some cream on it, and wrap it, but once we get to the hospital, you should really get checked out thoroughly. That includes a head CT, Catherine. You were out for a significant amount of time and your reactions are sluggish. Don't think I haven't noticed that."

"I will," Catherine promised, closing her eyes. "I just need to know that Nicky and Lou are okay," she added softly.

Without replying, Mike smoothed a generous amount of burn cream on Catherine's hand. He knew that it was soothing because a look of relief passed along her face. When he drew his eyes down to her hand once more, he noticed a scar along the inside of her wrist that almost looked like teeth marks. He briefly wondered what that was from. That, along with the bombing, was giving him a whole new perspective of crime scene investigators. He had originally thought, thanks to an onslaught of police procedurals and police dramas on television, all they did was collect evidence. However, Catherine Willows was a unique woman, and he knew now that she and her colleagues faced the same dangers as firemen and police officers.

Mike wrapped Catherine's hand in white gauze, and then turned his attention back to the Lou. The saline seemed to be working, as Lou was getting some color back. Catherine looked a little too pale for his liking, but there was really nothing he could do about it other than make sure she didn't pass out.

Minutes later, they arrived at the emergency room. Their arrival was met with a flurry of activity, doctors and nurses meeting them with shouts and yells.

Then they were gone.

Catherine stood there, silently, in the middle of the ambulance bay, her knees shaking and threatening to give out beneath her. Her fingers tugged at the gauze around her hand as she felt lost. All the adrenaline seemed to leave her body at once as she stood there. She looked down at her hands, blinking slowly as she saw the blood all over them: Lou's blood. Catherine could feel her knees weakening even more, and thought she was going to collapse in the ambulance bay.

"Hey," Catherine heard someone call as she looked over. Sara and Greg were rushing towards her, looks of concern washing over their faces. They stopped at a halt in front of their boss, taking in her appearance. She looked exhausted, her face was scraped, her hand was wrapped, and she was covered in dirt and dust. There was blood on the hand that wasn't wrapped as well as her once cream sweater. The sweater, which Sara knew was one of Catherine's favorites, was undoubtedly ruined.

"Are you okay?" Sara finally asked. "You don't look so good. Did you get checked out?"

"I…I'm fine," Catherine answered, not trusting her own voice. She took a deep breath, moving forward as she willed her body to cooperate. "I need to find out where they took Nick and what they are going to do with Lou."

"What happened?" Greg asked softly, falling into step next to Catherine. Sara was on the other side, and both seemed ready to catch Catherine if she were to stumble in the least.

"We went to the building and found Dr. Huxabe dead. His body was wired, and that triggered a bomb to start. We couldn't get to it because there were lasers, so Kip," her voice caught at the mention of the young bomb tech who had perished, "Kip jumped over it and attempted to disarm the bomb. While we were looking for stuff to pile up, Lou stepped on a booby trap and ended up getting shot in the leg. I stayed with Lou and kept pressure on the wound while Nicky and Kip worked on the bomb. Kip disarmed it, but then a few seconds later he was yelling for us to get down, and next thing I knew, there was a huge explosion. I covered Lou but got hit in the head, and was woken up by the paramedics," Catherine explained.

"Where's Nick now?" Greg asked.

"I – I don't know," Catherine admitted. "As soon as I figured out where they are taking Lou, I was going to check on him."

"What about you?" Sara questioned gently. Catherine looked back at her with confused blue eyes. Sara continued, "You have a nasty scrape on your face, and you said you were out. And we heard on the radio that you had a possibly broken bone in your hand, unless there's another female in a CSI vest running around getting into trouble," Sara said lightly.

Catherine smiled slightly, shrugging her shoulders. Truth was, she ached all over, but until she knew about Nick and Lou, she wasn't getting checked out. "I'm okay, guys," she reassured Greg and Sara. "I'm still here."

They arrived at the front desk. Catherine inquired about Lou and Nick. Nick was in the emergency room, but Lou was being prepared for surgery. Greg went to check on Nick, toting a bag with clean clothes along with him. Sara held a similar one, which she carried as she followed Catherine to the surgery ward of the hospital.

As they arrived, Catherine could see Lou being wheeled on a gurney toward an operating room. She broke out into a run, ignoring the protests of the nurses as she ran to his side.

"Lou, you're gonna be okay," Catherine whispered, taking his hand in hers and kissing it. "I'll be right there when you wake up, I promise." She kissed his hand again. Relief fluttered through her stomach when he opened his eyes, smiled tiredly at her and winked.

And with that, he was gone, leaving a trembling Catherine Willows behind. Sara stood next to Catherine, laying a hand on her shoulder in support. She waited quietly for Catherine to make the first move.

Finally, Catherine sighed, looking at Sara. "I look a mess, don't I?" she asked softly.

Sara laughed, shaking her head. "Come on, Cath, let's get your head and hand looked at."

Catherine shook her head in response. "Not until I know that Nicky and Lou are okay," she protested.

Sara nodded in response, knowing not to push the redhead. When Catherine had her mind set on something, especially something this grave, the brunette had learned not to mess with her. "At least change your clothes, okay, Cath?" Sara offered the bag that she held in her hand still.

Catherine nodded, setting off to the bathroom where she finally took a look at herself. The scrape on the side of her face was nasty, and she was covered in debris, dirt, and blood. _That explained the looks that I've been getting,_ Catherine thought wryly, pulling off her CSI vest. She heard rattling and looked in the vest pocket. Her reading glasses, the ones that Lou had made fun of all the time, were broken. The one's Lou constantly made fun of yet found her irresistible when she wore them. The one's he teased her about when she first got them until she attacked him with kisses leading to them eventually making love on the couch.

She laughed to herself at the memory, but the sound caught in her throat as she saw the blood all over her vest and clothes. She hadn't realized that there was that much and she felt a wave of panic come over her as she stared at her reflection. There was so much blood. There was no way that Lou could survive without a blood transfusion. She felt guilt creep over her in a wave that coated her very being. _I should have made Mike hook me up so that he could have gotten my blood! _Catherine's mind screamed.

Catherine felt a sob rise to her throat as she realized that things would never be the same again, but she willed it away. She wasn't going to lose it. Not here, not now. She couldn't.

Undressing quickly, she took note of the cuts and bruises that were covering her fair skin. None of them seemed life threatening, so Catherine dressed in the dark jeans and purple sweater that Sara had grabbed from her locker. She kicked off the heels that were killing her feet, slipping into the more comfortable Nikes that she rarely wore.

Using her left hand, she threw her clothes and heels back into the bag, scrubbing her face with soap and water from the sink. Wincing at the pain in her hand, she pulled her hair back with an elastic band.

Catherine felt a little better as she exited the bathroom, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Greg standing with Sara. "How's Nick?" she asked quickly. "Is he okay?"

"He's getting a head CT, and he's whining about it, so I'm guessing he's fine," Greg joked. He didn't make a comment about her needing to do the same thing, so Catherine guessed Sara had told him not to say anything. "You need anything, Cath?" he offered kindly. "Coffee, water, food?"

"I'm okay for now, Greg," she answered, settling down into a chair. "I just need to know that Lou is okay."

That was the last words that Catherine spoke until a doctor made his way out of the operating room an hour later. "Catherine Vartann?" he called, and she stood up, making her way to him.

"It's Catherine Willows," she corrected, instinctively sticking her hand out before remembering her injury, allowing her hand to drop back down. "I'm Detective Vartann's girlfriend and emergency contact," Catherine said. She didn't see the surprised look that Greg and Sara exchanged behind her back. "We're not married. Is he okay?"

"He's going to be fine," the doctor said. Catherine finally breathed a sigh of relief. "We removed the bullet and stitched up his leg. When the initial injury occurred, did someone keep pressure on his wound?"

"Yes, I did," Catherine answered.

"Well, Ms. Willows, that, combined with the blood transfusion we did right when he got here, most likely saved Detective Vartann's life," the doctor informed her.

Catherine nodded slowly, taking in his words. "Can I see him?" she asked in a small voice, hoping that her voice wasn't as wavering as she thought it sounded.

"Of course," the doctor said. "Just let the nurses finish wrapping his leg, and allow them to settle him in a room, and you can see him for a little bit."

It seemed like forever, but they finally wheeled Lou into a room. Sara and Greg left with the promise to check on Nicky and to make sure that lab stayed in one piece. Then, Catherine found herself standing by Lou's bed, looking at the man that she almost lost.

_Call me when you're ready._

The words echoed in her head. She had to fight back tears as she thought about three long months ago. How she had told Lou to call her when he was ready. They hadn't talked for a long time, skipping over Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Years, only talking to each other in a professional setting. It wasn't until three days before, when Lou showed up on her doorstep on Valentine's Day of all days, wearing a suit and carrying a dozen roses, did they actually talk. They sat in her living room for three hours, sorting out their differences and discussing what they were afraid of in the relationship and what they wanted. They had ended the night with a promise to be more honest to each other, and wound up in her bedroom until they both had to report for emergency backup for the day shift.

And now, after almost losing Lou, Catherine was realizing that she needed to make some changes.

She perched herself on the edge of his hospital bed, picking up his right hand in hers. She rubbed her thumbs over the worn calluses of his hands, taking in the feel of his skin touching hers. She saw a faint trace of blood on his hands, shuddering as she remembered just how close she came to losing him, how he had shaken and trembled under her touch with just four minutes left until the bomb went off. His skin was covered with dirt and soot, and she knew that his favorite suit was ruined.

It was a miracle that he had not only survived the bombing, but the trauma of being shot as well.

She sat there quietly for several long minutes, just staring at Lou. She didn't move, didn't talk to any of the doctors or nurses that came into the room, nor to Nick, who either checked himself out or didn't need further observation, Catherine wasn't sure. She was too exhausted and mentally drained to form words.

Finally, after about an hour and a half, Lou stirred slightly. She watched as he blinked slowly, bringing the room into focus. His eyes held a brief look of panic until they settled in on Catherine sitting across from him.

"Welcome back," Catherine said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "The doctors patched you up, you're gonna be okay." A slight beat, then she continued, "Kip didn't make it."

Lou nodded slowly, biting his lower lip as pain shot through his leg. Catherine noticed the action, and immediately made a move to get up. "I can get the doctor," Catherine started, only to stop as she felt Lou wrap his fingers around her hand.

"Stay."

That single word was all that Catherine needed to sit back down, this time moving closer to the man she knew without a doubt that she loved. She used her free hand to run her fingers through his short hair, playing with the spiky bangs that she loved. "How do you feel?"

"I…I don't know," Lou admitted. "I'm sore, but…Everything right before the explosion is really fuzzy and I don't remember anything after you and Nick moved me behind the lumber." He looked at Catherine, his eyes pleading her to tell him what happened.

She swallowed slightly, allowing her mind to go back to the warehouse, as much as she hated to. In a way, she had blocked some of the events out of her mind, her brain refusing to go back to those horrible eighteen minutes. The eighteen minutes that were filled with fear, danger, anger, reflection, and so many other emotions that filled her being.

"I, uh…" she hesitated, then continued. "I stayed with you while Nick hung out with Kip, who was trying to disarm the bomb. You were really out of it, shaking, and convulsing, going into shock. But then, Nick came over to me, telling us that it was okay, that Kip had disarmed the bomb. He hugged me, and next thing we knew, Kip was yelling at us to get down. Nick pulled me down, and there was a really loud explosion when the bomb went off."

For some reason, Catherine left out the part about her protecting him. She didn't understand why, but for some reason she didn't feel obligated to. "I guess that something struck me in the head, because I was knocked out. I came to when the paramedics got there, and they took you guys to the hospital."

"Did you get checked out?" Lou asked softly, picking up on her choice of words and looking into Catherine's eyes for the truth.

"I had my hand looked at," Catherine answered carefully, showing him the carefully wrapped limb.

"And your head?"

"It's still attached," Catherine joked lightly. "I'm gonna get it checked out, Lou. I promise. I just had to make sure that you were okay."

Lou smiled sleepily at her, lifting his hand tiredly to trace the scrape on her face. She closed her eyes against the gentle touch. "You're beautiful," Lou whispered. "I'm so glad that you are here."

Catherine opened her eyes, smiling back at him. It was then that she realized how truly exhausted she was. Her eyelids were heavy, and she had the sudden urge to rest her head against his muscular chest and sleep for days. "Where else would I be?" Catherine questioned.

Lou rubbed his thumb across her face, carefully tucking strands of fiery hair behind her ears. "I love when you wear a ponytail," Lou said sleepily. "Makes you look sexy."

Catherine laughed slightly. "I'm dirty and gross. Only you would think that I look sexy at this point," she said.

"I'm allowed to," Lou pointed out. "You're amazing. You're perfect and you're caring and you just…you're amazing. I don't know what I did to deserve you in my life, but I'm glad that you are in it.

Catherine felt the lump in her throat growing by the second. She was afraid to open her mouth in fear the tears would start flowing. That was something that she didn't want to get into right now, when she was mentally and physically drained. "Thank you," she finally managed. "You always look for the best in me."

"I don't have to look very hard," Lou pointed out sleepily. "I can't imagine my life without you."

"Me either," Catherine whispered, running her thumb across his hand. "You look exhausted. Get some rest. I'll be back," she promised.

Lou nodded, his head lolling against the pillow. "Please, Cath, promise me that you will get checked out before coming back?" he asked.

"I will," Catherine promised. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I'll be back. I promise."

"Okay," Lou answered sleepily, watching as Catherine stood up and walked to the door. "Hey, Cath," he called softly. She turned slowly, her blue eyes meeting his steely gray ones across the room. She was surprised to see how soft his gaze was. For as long as she had known him, he had a hardened gaze, one that he had perfected over years of working as a detective. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "Once you get me sprung out of here, can you play nurse for me?" Lou asked innocently.

A genuine smile spread across Catherine's face, the first in several hours since the nightmare had begun. "Of course," she said silkily. "Complete with white stilettos."

She winked and turned around, leaving a stunned Lou Vartann behind.

Catherine chuckled to herself, pushing up her sleeves as she entered the hallway, smiling weakly at Nick, who was pacing the hallway. He looked deep in thought, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Nick saw Catherine exit Lou's room, and he walked quickly toward her. "How are you doing?" Catherine asked him, taking in the cuts and scrapes along his strong jaw and forehead.

"I'm okay," Nick told Catherine. He glanced around, then brought his attention to Catherine. "How are you doing?"

"I'm still in one piece," Catherine answered with a shrug.

"Yeah, you should probably get checked out anyways," Nick pointed out, looking around again.

Catherine smiled wryly. "That's usually my line," she informed him.

Nick seemed surprised by her words as he finally made eye contact with his supervisor. He smiled slightly. "Well, you're always taking care of me," Nick pointed out. "Why don't you let me take care of you for once?"

Catherine felt her heart skip a beat as she processed Nick's words. It was almost as if he knew what she wanted…better than she did herself. She looked at him for a long time, realizing for the first time how capable Nick was of handling things if – no, when – she left. Catherine was finally seeing that it was only a matter of time until she left the lab. She had promised herself that she wouldn't get burned out like Grissom and Sara did, but everything, especially the events of today, was taking a toll on her psyche. The twenty-five-plus years that she had spent as a CSI was finally catching up to her, and the bombing, the near death situation, had shaken her to her very core.

She took a deep breath, staring up at Nick for several more long moments. "Okay," she finally said meekly. Nick smiled at her again, that charming smile that made hearts of many ladies flutter.

Instinctively, gratefully, she stood on her toes, trying to cut down some of the height difference as she wrapped her arms around Nick's shoulders. Catherine rarely noticed just how strong and big Nick was. She felt safe for several long moments after Nick's initial surprise at her display of affection disappeared, and they held each other in the hallway.

When they finally broke apart, Catherine was surprised to see that Nick's eyes looked a little misty. He swallowed thickly, smiling at Catherine gently. "You gonna get that looked at?" Nick's question and gesture to the scrape on Catherine's face broke the silence.

"Yeah, I, uh…soon," Catherine answered, throwing a glance over her shoulder. "I want to…I need to make sure Lou's okay. That he stays okay."

Nick nodded his understanding, but surprised Catherine by walking past her toward Lou's room. She turned so that their positions were changed. "You go get fixed up, and I'll stay with Lou until you get back," Nick offered. "I'm just not gonna hold his hand."

Catherine laughed at this, shaking her head. It was such a typical Nicky response. "Okay. I'll be back as soon as possible," Catherine told him. She paused, then added, "Are you up to watching over the lab for a week or two? I want to stay with Lou as much as possible while he recovers and I…uh, I think I might need to take a couple weeks off to get my head straight."

Nick gave his approval in the form of another smaller hug. This time he only squeezed Catherine's shoulders. "Take care of yourself," he told her seriously. "He'll still be here when you get back."

"Okay," Catherine whispered, turning away. It was difficult to do; she felt the anxiety of not being there for Lou if or when he would need her kick in. She willed herself not to break down as she made her way down to the emergency room to finally take care of herself.

~/~

Catherine sat on the edge of the hospital bed, waiting for the MRI technician to come in. Her appearance in the ER had been met with concern and immediate results once they realized that she was involved in the bombing in the warehouse. Word spread quickly in Vegas; that was something that she had learned from her father. The staff at the hospital all showed their concern, but she also had a feeling many of them simply wanted to know what had happened in the warehouse.

Catherine had been saved by a short, red haired woman who she suspected had no tolerance for games. She seemed strict, even a little short, with her staff, but she had a calm bedside manner, which Catherine appreciated. She was especially grateful that the doctor, upon hearing that Catherine simply wanted – needed – to get back to Lou, took immediate action. The doctor ordered her staff to treat Catherine before any other non-critical patients. She also promised the redheaded CSI that if she would be admitted, she would be with Lou.

That eased some of Catherine's shaky nerves, but the waiting game was starting to catch up to her. She had been poked, prodded, x-rayed, given vision and hearing tests, along with several other tests that the doctor ordered. Catherine briefly regretted listening to Lou and Nick. She was starting to become irritable with being stared at and looked at as if she were some sort of hero. She was resisting the urge to leave the ER against medical advice to be with Lou.

The x-ray of her hand had been negative for broken bones, but the limited range of mobility along with the swelling caused the doctor to determine that she had a bad sprain. Her hand was now encased in a heavy splint, the gauze and cream underneath protecting and soothing her second degree burn, which Mike had correctly diagnosed in the ambulance.

The doctor had determined that she possibly had a concussion, due to the extreme tiredness, dizziness, and headaches that she was experiencing. The MRI was the last test that the doctor ordered. The doctor promised, and Catherine hoped to be released pending no serious head injury.

A light knock on the door startled Catherine, and she looked up to see a nurse standing there with a wheelchair. Not mustering the energy up to glare at the offending object, Catherine simply stood and allowed the nurse to help her sit in it, and remained silent until they arrived at the machine.

She allowed the nurse to help her sit on the machine, listening quietly to the explanations and instructions the nurse was stating. Catherine nodded in what she hoped was the right times and laid back, trying to relax as the machine started whirring.

Catherine felt herself moving, remaining as still as possible so that she could get it over with.

The sudden lonely feeling that hit her like a Mack truck surprised Catherine. It was quiet in the machine as the doctors looked at her brain, looking for anything alarming that would cause them worry.

Her thoughts immediately went to Lou, and how she had almost lost him today. She had almost lost Nicky as well, and God rest poor Kip's soul. He was so young, and he knew what he was doing. Kip hadn't even had a chance at life.

_It wasn't fair. It didn't make sense, and she didn't like it. _

Catherine realized just then how much death she saw. She saw it nearly everyday. Tourists who came to Vegas hoping for glitz and glamour; families that had their happiness cut short with a natural death; suicides, homicides, rapes, breaking and entering, robberies; abusers, gangs, murderers, and thieves: they all fell in the same miserable category that Catherine realized she hated.

It took her twenty-six years to realize it, and it made her sick to her stomach as she wondered just how she had made it this far.

It was in the protection of the solitary MRI machine that Catherine Willows finally broke, allowing the silent tears to slide down her cheeks.

~/~

End Part 1. Should I continue?

Either way, thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Here's part 2. A huge thanks to Heather for betaing. 3 Hoping to get part 3 out sooner than later, but I have so much on my plate at the moment it's disgusting. I'm talking two extra committees at work, an online class, plus my regular teaching duties and my part time job. Sleep? Who needs that? It's overrated! LOL

Thanks so much, and please review! It means the world to me as a writer.

K.

PS – Still don't own it.

~/~

_How could she be back in the warehouse?_

_It seemed impossible that after the nightmare in February, that she, Lou, and Nick would be trapped in the very same warehouse that they nearly died in. _

_And now, they were facing death again._ _Only this time, Jim Brass was with them._

"_How can this be?" Catherine asked softly. "How are we here again?"_

_Nick, Jim, and Lou didn't respond. Instead, they took off down a long hallway. __Running__ away from the bomb that was ticking down to its last seconds. She took off after them.__ The three men left her behind after an earlier head start._

"_Guys, wait for me!" Catherine called desperately. They ignored her. Catherine ran as hard as she could to keep up__ with the men__ down the never ending hall. _

_The building shook with the first blast and Catherine was knocked to her knees. She tried to scramble to her feet, only to see a pair of legs in front of her. She stopped, looking up._

_She froze as she saw who was standing in front of her, her mouth dropping open. "Sam?" she managed hoarsely. _

"_Don't go Muggs," he said,__ offering a hand down to Catherine pulling her to her feet__. His touch was cold to her burning skin. "Don't go."_

"_I don't want to go, Sam!" Catherine cried, looking behind her seeing the flames inching closer. "__But __I have no choice!"_

"_You do have a choice," Sam said. "Don't go to the crime scene."_

"_Crime scene?" Catherine asked, confusion replacing __the desperate look on her face._

"_Don't go," Sam repeated. "I love you, Muggs."_

_Catherine stared in amazement as Sam vanished.__ She turned as her eyes widened at the wall of flames right in front of her._

"_NO!" she yelled bracing herself for what she knew would be a painful end. _

"NO!" Catherine sat straight up, sweat running down her face.

Her breath caught for a long moment as she looked around. She wasn't in the warehouse. She wasn't stuck there, looking for a way out that didn't exist.

Catherine was in the safety of her office. She looked around; taking in the plants, the pictures, all of her memorabilia that made her office hers.

"Damn it," Catherine breathed, her heart pounding. She ran a hand across her eyes, trying to wake up. She glanced at her watch. 3:41 AM.

Leaning back in her chair, Catherine stretched trying to work out the kinks that had settled during her brief nap. She thought back, trying to think of what time she fell asleep. She had sent Nick and Ray on a scene at 2:15, and then settled down to try to tackle the ever growing pile of paperwork on her desk. She signed off on three reports before her eyes had started to feel heavy. She remembered thinking of just resting her eyes at about quarter of three…

Catherine felt somewhat embarrassed. She had never fallen asleep at work before, even while pulling triples. However, in the aftermath of the Jason McCann fiasco and Lou getting shot, sleep was more of an afterthought and almost a nuisance.

She had spent long nights taking care of Lou after he was injured. Once he was on the mend, Catherine found it hard to sleep, especially if he wasn't with her.

When she did fall asleep, she was usually plagued with nightmares. They always took place at the warehouse, and they usually involved either dying in that warehouse, or Lou dying from his gunshot, or Lou and Nick making it out, but not her.

The dreams were becoming more frequent, therefore making it hard for her to get anything done. She was seriously considering contacting her doctor about getting a sleep aid. Catherine was getting to the point where she couldn't function like this any longer.

Catherine took a deep breath, trying to get some sort of control over her still pounding heart. _It was just a dream, Catherine,_ she told herself. _It's okay. You're fine, Lou's fine._

Her head was beginning to hurt. That was a side effect from the concussion she had suffered in the accident. The doctor told her that she would have headaches for a few months after the bombing, due to the loud explosion and initial head trauma.

Most days she was okay, but tonight, she felt so stressed that it was causing her head to pound. She needed caffeine, and badly.

She stood up and grabbed her oversized coffee cup. Catherine usually didn't drink coffee after 4:00 AM because it affected her sleep patterns when she finally got off work. However, if she was going to make it through the rest of her shift, she knew that she needed the caffeine.

Besides, she wasn't sleeping anyway, so what was the point of restricting her caffeine intake?

Catherine made her way to the break room, wishing that Greg was there to brew some of his special Blue Hawaiian coffee. She needed an extra boost right now that was for sure.

As she walked, Catherine thought about the latest dream, and the message that her deceased father had given her. _What crime scene was he talking about?_She usually was called out to between seven to ten crime scenes a week. So she wasn't quite sure what Sam was talking about when he referred to a crime scene.

She tried to brush off the nervous feeling that was settling in her shoulders.

Catherine was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't see the person who stepped out of a doorway until she walked right into them. The body in her path barely moved, and Catherine bounced back, feeling her feet shoot out from under her from the impact.

She braced herself for the collision with the floor, but an arm wrapped around her waist, keeping Catherine on her feet.

She looked up, surprised to be looking into the eyes of her lover.

"If you wanted to dance, Catherine, all you had to do was ask," Lou joked softly, squeezing her waist gently. "You okay? You look like you're a million miles away."

"I, uh…" she trailed off, wondering if she should finally tell Lou about the nightmares.

So far, she had managed to keep them secret. When she did wake up in a cold sweat, Lou was such a heavy sleeper, he usually had no idea she was even awake.

"I'm fine," she finally replied. "Just thinking about a case. How are you?" she asked.

"Okay," Lou answered, allowing his arm to finally drop. He had a feeling Catherine was lying to him, but he continued, "I was actually coming to look for you."

"What's up?" Catherine asked.

"Brass and I caught a case. Dead teenager. Looks like a gang hit," Lou told her. "We need a CSI to go with us."

Catherine nodded. "Nick and Ray are on a scene, Greg is out sick, and Sara is somewhere visiting Grissom. I guess you're stuck with me," she told him with a small smile.

"No one else I'd rather be stuck with," Lou replied. "You want to ride with me?"

"Yeah, let me get my kit, Lou. I'll meet you in the parking lot," Catherine answered. Lou nodded, and she set off back to her office to return her coffee cup and to get her field kit and camera.

He watched worriedly. Lou could almost see the tension and exhaustion radiating off Catherine. Something wasn't right with his girlfriend, but he supposed that he was going to have to wait until after the investigation to talk to her.

~/~

"Hey, baby, how about I get your number?"

"Mami looks like a wild one."

"Probably got some disease or somethin'."

Catherine tensed slightly wondering if she should even stop what she was doing.

It was a tough decision. Her forensic side told her to just keep processing the area around the body until David, the assistant coroner, got to the scene. The sooner she finished, the sooner she could go home and take a long, hot shower.

However, her vulnerable side told her that the men behind the yellow caution tape ogling her butt encased in tight jeans were dangerous and that she should at least move her position away from them. But if she did that, she'd have to make eye contact.

Catherine took a picture of the blood drops covering the yellow handkerchief wrapped around the victim's head after glancing over at Lou.

She saw the frown covering his features, and she knew that he was hearing the derogatory comments that the men dressed in red were calling toward her.

She smiled weakly at him, trying to let him know that she was okay, that the comments weren't affecting her ability to do her job.

Lou held her gaze for a moment, nodding slightly. He understood what she was trying to tell him. He didn't like it, especially since the comments were directed at _his_ girlfriend. However, he needed to remain professional.

Catherine squatted down, looking at something that was clenched in the victim's hand. It was a piece of a red bandana. She frowned, glancing back behind her, seeing the red bandanas that were wrapped around heads and wrists, some dangling from men's belt loops.

She waved Lou and Jim over.

The two police officers ambled over to her. "What's up, Cath?" Jim asked.

She gestured to the bandana in question then nodded her head towards the group of men that were still shouting insults.

"Think they have something to do with this?" Catherine asked. "Same color. Looks to be the same design."

Jim examined the torn bandana, glancing at Lou. Lou nodded back, and the pair walked over to the gang behind the crime scene tape. Catherine followed, her arm brushing the gun at her waist.

She stood between the two men, listening to the conversation.

"Gentlemen, how are we this evening?" Brass started off. Some of the gang members scoffed in reply, not even bothering to answer Jim. Catherine felt uncomfortable as one of the members raked his eyes over her body.

They were obviously hostile, and she could see the bulges of weapons in their waistlines. She wasn't stupid; she knew that situations like this could turn deadly _just like that_. It wouldn't take much to set them off.

"Can we ask you a few questions?" Jim asked, drawing Catherine out of her musings.

"You just asked two, grandpa," the one who had been eying Catherine answered smoothly. His thick Mexican accent caused shivers to run down Catherine's spine.

The rest of the men laughed as if that was the funniest thing they heard all morning.

"'Grandpa', that's clever," Lou retorted. "You been called that lately, Captain Brass?"

"Not since yesterday, Detective Vartann," Brass replied.

"What, are your names supposed to scare us?" the obvious leader asked. Catherine assumed that he was the leader because after all, he was the one doing all the talking. The others just followed his lead.

"Gentlemen, we found a piece of red bandana in the victim's hand," Catherine finally spoke up, trying to diffuse the situation before it started to get out of control.

"Do you mind if we look at all of your bandanas? It will help us to rule you out as the killer."

"Do we get to look at something of yours?" the man asked back his eyes focused on her chest.

Catherine suppressed a shudder, placing a hand on Lou's arm as she sensed him tensing.

She waited until the muscles in his arm relaxed slightly before continuing. "That's not how it works," Catherine answered sweetly. "Unless you want the entire LVPD to come down here and haul you to the station, I'd suggest that you cooperate so we can do our jobs and find out who killed that man."

"Why would we help you pigs?" the gang leader asked. "He's the one who was runnin' his mouth, and it looks like it finally caught up to him. We haven't done nothin' wrong. We're just standin' here, watching the night go by."

Catherine hesitated for a second. They were absolutely right. Until she found evidence that said otherwise, they were simply spectators who just happened to be at the crime scene. "It would help us to rule out your group," Catherine finally answered. "I'm sure you don't want the label of killer across your forehead."

The smirk on the leader's face told Catherine that he probably already had that label somewhere across his body. He didn't answer her, just continued to stare at her with a smile playing on his lips.

"Its fine, guys, we can get a warrant," Catherine finally spoke up, laying a hand on Brass and Lou's arms. "Let's go," she said to the two men standing next to her.

"Go where, have a threesome?" the gang leader asked. "Wouldn't surprise me, you redheads always are freaky."

Catherine ignored him, wrapping her fingers around Lou's shirt sleeve. She could see that he was angry, and she pulled at his arm.

"We'll be in contact with you," Brass said, picking up on Lou's mood change. "Should I even bother asking for names, or is this the street corner I can locate you?"

The smirk that had been on the face of the gang leader finally vanished. "What, do you think you're better than us?" he asked, stepping closer to the tape.

"Oh, it's not a matter of what I think," Brass answered with his trademark snarky tone, his inflection letting the gang know exactly what he thought. "It's what I know."

"Its fine, Captain," Lou added. "I'm sure one of them will do something stupid before sunset and we can bust them that way."

"You think so, Detective?"

"I know it," Lou answered. "I see it all the time."

Catherine eyed the group of thugs warily. They were obviously becoming more agitated by the second, and nothing that either police officer was saying was going to get them to calm down. In fact, the crowd seemed to get more agitated by the second.

"Come on, Lou, Jim, let's just forget them," Catherine pleaded with the duo quietly stepping between them and the gang.

Ignoring the twinge of anxiety she felt at having her back to the obviously dangerous group, Catherine stared at the two officers. She waited until both Jim and Lou were looking at her, and then continued, "I know they are agitating you two with everything that they are saying about me, but please. Let's just do our job."

She alternated her gaze between the two men, holding their stares for several seconds. Finally, Jim nodded, Lou following suit. "Come on, guys," Catherine said softly. "Let's get this done. Maybe I'll even let you two take me out to breakfast when we're finished."

Lou smiled gently at Catherine, and Jim smirked slightly. There weren't many female cops who could get the seasoned homicide detective to stand down, let alone female CSIs, but Catherine Willows was in a category of her own.

"Let's do this," Jim agreed.

Lou and Jim turned, stepping in line with Catherine.

"Well isn't that sweet," the leader of the gang called. "The big old tough guys are listening to the little bitch."

Catherine sensed Lou bristling, and she laid a hand on his elbow. "Lou, let it be," she told him calmly. "I've been called a lot worse in my day."

She could see the tension in his jaw, but Lou nodded anyway. He slipped his hand in Catherine's, closing his fingers around hers.

"Thank you," Catherine said softly.

"What a bunch of pathetic crackers," the leader of the group scoffed. "We certainly know who is in control in that group. I wonder if the little whore lets those two pansies borrow her dresses or if they have their own."

This time it was Catherine who bristled. She had a thick skin, but being called a whore was one thing that she absolutely hated. It was a term that she had heard almost daily at the French Palace when she would refuse to give services past lap dances. The convenience store was another place she heard that word when she would pick up water and cigarettes after her dancing shift.

She danced to make a living, and it was such a misconceived term. She was the farthest thing from a whore there could be.

Lou sensed the change in Catherine's demeanor and he wrapped his arm around Catherine's shoulders, pulling her away from the group. "Let's just do this and get it over with," he said, loud enough for the gang members to hear. "Then we can do our thing."

Catherine smiled at the implication, knowing that Lou was trying to cheer her up and take her mind of the derogatory things the gang members were saying.

She waited until they were about fifteen feet away, then spoke. "That way, we can forget about certain people's…shortcomings," she called over her shoulder, allowing the comment to hang over the gang member's heads.

It was that comment that finally set the gang off. Before the trio had a chance to react, at least three muzzles flashed, bullets erupting from the barrels of the guns.

"Get down!" Lou yelled, grabbing Catherine and pulling her to the ground as she felt a sharp pain in her knee. Brass also dropped to the ground.

It was oddly reminiscent of the bombing, Catherine thought, except Lou was protecting her this time. She managed to pull her gun out somehow, taking careful aim and pulling the trigger.

One shot.

Two shots.

Three shots.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Finally, all seemed silent. There were two gang members on the ground, and one was running away with the rest, a hand covering his shoulder.

Everyone seemed to spring into action, several officers taking off after the gang members. Another one checked the pulses of the two on the ground, kicking the guns away from them.

"Brass, are you okay?" Lou called. "Are you hit?"

"I'm fine!" Brass called. His tone was angry about the fact the gang had got the jump on him and he hadn't been able to return fire.

"You okay, Cath?" Lou asked softly, his eyes still surveying the scene. He hadn't even looked at Catherine yet. "I know I threw you down pretty hard."

Catherine didn't answer. "Cath?" he asked, bringing his gaze down to her.

Catherine stared up at him with pained eyes, tears pooling in the blue orbs.

"Lou," she managed weakly, her gun falling from her fingers and hitting the ground with an echoing clatter.

"Oh, no," Lou whispered. It was then that he felt a warmth against his leg, the leg that was covering Catherine's.

"No, no, no," Lou repeated. "_**TEN DOUBLE ZERO, OFFICER DOWN! I REPEAT, TEN DOUBLE ZERO!"**_he bellowed.

His panicked cry prompted an immediate reaction. Lou shifted his weight off of Catherine and knelt next to her. His eyes scanned Catherine's body finding the source of her injury.

Her left knee was bleeding profusely, blood rapidly covering her jeans.

Catherine gasped in pain, her breath hitching as she shuddered. Catherine reached for the limb, crying out as she tried to move her leg.

"Cath, Cath, come on," Lou said, trying to stay calm for his and her sakes. "Relax," he ordered. "You took care of me when I got shot, now it's my turn to care for you."

Catherine took a deep breath, allowing her hands to drop as she looked up at Lou. Her eyes were watering with pain, but Lou could see the trust lying within them.

Lou ripped off his suit jacket, balling it up and sticking it under Catherine's head. Jim appeared next to him. "I called for paramedics," he said quietly. He reached down, grabbing Catherine's hand. "Just stay calm, Cath. We're gonna take care of you," Jim promised.

Catherine nodded, her eyes glazing over. She took a deep shuddering breath, trying to control her rapid heartbeat. She closed her eyes.

"No, no," Lou said softly. "No closing your eyes, Catherine."

Catherine opened her eyes, bringing her gaze to her knee. She groaned when she saw the amount of blood, clenching her free hand to try to control some of the pain. Lou's fingers found the entry wound. As carefully as he could, he ripped open her jeans around that area, examining her leg as best as he could through the bleeding wound.

There wasn't an exit point, which meant that the bullet was probably lodged in her kneecap. Lou blinked in amazement. He knew how much pain that he was in after being shot in the thigh where there was more flesh. He didn't even want to think about the pain involved with a bullet hitting bone.

"I'm going to try to stop the bleeding," Lou told her softly. "I have to put pressure on your knee but I think the bullet is probably lodged in the bone. It's probably going to hurt."

He paused, remembering how Catherine had said nearly the exact same words just three months prior.

"Lou, just do it," Catherine said through gritted teeth. She cried out in pain, her back automatically arching as soon as Lou touched her knee. Her eyes slammed shut, sweat forming on her forehead as she fought the urge to pass out. Never before had she felt so much pain. Something was seriously wrong – much worse than just a bullet in the knee, and Catherine knew it.

"Cath, it's gonna be okay," Lou said softly. "I know it hurts, but just stay with us, okay?"

His thoughts dropped to her knee. He knew without a doubt from the way that it was shifting as he put pressure on the wound that her kneecap was shattered, which was increasing the pain from her gunshot wound tenfold.

"We need to elevate your leg to try to stop the bleeding. Do you think you can handle that?"

Catherine moaned her response, but the affirmative nod of her head told Lou to go ahead. Lou looked at Jim, who immediately positioned himself near Catherine's leg. Carefully, Jim grasped her ankle, lifting her leg. Catherine bit her lip, trying to hold in the groan of pain. An involuntarily tear slipped from her eye as Jim slipped his knee underneath her leg, using his own leg to prop hers up while still holding her hand. Lou kept firm pressure on her knee, trying to stop the bleeding.

Long minutes passed as Brass and Lou tried to keep Catherine calm. She took deep, shuddering breaths that shook her entire body as pain coursed through her leg. The stream of blood seemed to be slowing somewhat, but Lou didn't dare move his hands from her kneecap.

"It's okay, Cath," Lou breathed softly, making eye contact with her, holding her tear filled gaze. "You're gonna be fine."

Catherine didn't answer, her chest painfully tight as she fought against the black edges that were threatening her vision. She wanted to close her eyes so badly, but Lou and Jim were begging her not to. She groaned in pain, arching her back again.

"Try not to move Catherine," Jim encouraged. "It will hurt less."

Catherine rolled her head to the side, closing her eyes, resisting the urge to throw up. The pain was making her dizzy and nauseous. "I'm trying, Jim," she moaned. "It hurts."

"I know sweetheart," Jim said softly squeezing her hand. He fought the urge to move his leg, as he knew doing so would cause Catherine even more pain. "It's going to be okay, we promise." Thankfully, the sound of sirens piercing the air signaling help was arriving for Catherine.

Lou watched as the paramedic got out of the vehicle, talking briefly to an officer. The officer gestured towards Catherine as the paramedic and his partner jogged over.

"What do we have here, off-" The paramedic stopped talking. Catherine's eyes shot wide open at the familiar voice.

"Well, well, well. Someone just can't stay out of trouble, can she?"

"Oh, God," Catherine choked out. "This just keeps getting worse."

Lou looked suspiciously at the young, handsome paramedic. The paramedic saw the look he was getting from the detective, and said smoothly, "I'm Mike Smith. I was the first person on scene after the explosion at the warehouse."

Lou nodded in realization, his gaze flicking back to Catherine.

Mike could see the worry etched in his face, as well as the blood covering his hands and Catherine's jeans, and asked what happened.

"Gang opened fire on us, and Catherine got struck in the knee. She's in a lot of pain, and her kneecap feels like it may be displaced. I've been keeping pressure on her knee, and we've kept it elevated. I think that the bleeding has stopped, but she needs to get to a hospital as soon as possible," Lou said frantically.

Mike looked at the blood on Catherine's jeans, commenting to his partner. "It's not a through and through," he told his partner. "Bullet is probably still lodged in there."

His partner nodded, pulling out several heavy gauze pads and another roll of gauze. He also pulled out a pair of scissors. Looking at Jim, he asked, "Can you slip out from under her but keep her leg elevated? I want to cut her pant leg off, but can't do so with your leg there."

"I can do that," Jim answered quietly feeling the urge to do anything to help. He remembered how concerned Catherine had been when he had been shot several years ago, and it was only natural to return the favor.

Carefully, not wanting to cause Catherine anymore pain, Jim maneuvered his leg, moving away from Catherine, grasping her ankle with her hands.

"Make sure you keep it as straight as possible, and don't move it," Mike advised Brass before looking at Lou. "Keep the pressure on the wound until we tell you to move your hands, okay?"

Lou nodded his understanding, watching numbly as Mike's partner cut at Catherine's jeans. She loved those jeans, Lou realized sadly.

Carefully, Mike peeled her pant leg down, looking at Lou. "Move your hands slowly, but keep the back of her knee supported with your hand, okay?"

Lou nodded again, slowly moving his hand from her kneecap as Mike peeled her jeans back over the wound. Mike's partner quickly cut down the front of her jeans, removing the destroyed garment from her leg.

Mike glanced at her knee, wincing at the wound on her kneecap. It had clearly done a lot of damage, but without an x-ray, Mike couldn't be sure how much. Taking the gauze from his partner, Mike tightly and quickly wrapped Catherine's knee.

A stretcher seemingly materialized out of nowhere. Mike and his partner worked to maneuver Catherine onto the stretcher as carefully as possible. She cried out as her knee was jarred and her head rolled to the side, her eyes closing.

"Catherine? Catherine!" Mike said, tapping her cheek gently.

Catherine didn't respond and Mike swore under his breath. He stuck two fingers on Catherine's neck, and waited a second. "Pulse is thready, but it's there. We need to move her now, though!"

Mike and his partner lifted Catherine gently placing her on the gurney. They quickly strapped her down, leading her to the waiting ambulance.

Lou stared after them, his legs seemingly stuck to the ground. His gaze flicked down to the ground, shuddering at the amount of blood before him on the ground. There was way too much.

"Lou, are you coming?" Brass called urgently. Lou blinked, realizing that they had Catherine in the ambulance and were ready to slam the doors shut.

Forcing himself to move, Lou sprinted into the ambulance and jumped in the back of it. Mike looked startled at the new presence, then a knowing look crossed his face. He didn't say anything as the doors of the ambulance slammed shut. Mike then returned to Catherine, making sure she was secure.

Lou's eyes were glued to the heart monitor and Mike smiled to himself despite the somewhat grave situation. This was like déjà vu, he thought.

"Her blood pressure is low," Mike finally offered, busying himself with a blanket. He efficiently wrapped it around Catherine, trying to keep her cool skin warm. "She's lost a lot of blood, so that's normal. Once we get her to the hospital, and they get the bullet out of her and a blood transfusion, she should be okay."

"Does…does she need a blood transfusion? We're the same blood type," Lou said hoarsely. "I can donate my blood. I can do it right now."

This time Mike did smile slightly. _This really is déjà vu. _"She's stable and will get a transfusion at the hospital," the paramedic promised. "But if you want to donate there, you absolutely can."

Lou nodded, carefully tucking a piece of hair behind Catherine's ear. He was silent for several long moments.

"I'm supposed to protect her, you know," Lou finally said. "And I didn't. I tried to protect her, but she still got hit, and I wasn't even able to take any of the gang down. She did. Despite being shot in the knee, she still had the presence of mind to draw her weapon and take out two and wound another." Lou paused, finally looking at Mike. "I'm the cop, I'm the one who is supposed to do the shooting. Not her, not Catherine the CSI supervisor. With the amount of pain she was in, how was she able to?"

Mike hesitated after checking the heart monitor before finally replying. "My guess is that her adrenaline was probably pumping so hard that she didn't feel any pain until afterward."

Lou looked doubtful, but still nodded.

"Catherine is an extraordinary woman. Man, I've only met her twice, and I can see that. There seems to be nothing she can't do."

Lou chuckled slightly, his eyes focused on his and Catherine's joined hands.

"That she is," he finally whispered. "I need her in my life." He glanced at Mike briefly then added, "There's no other choice."

~/~

Lou stood in the bathroom of the hospital staring at his reflection at the mirror. He wasn't sure how long he had stood there. Hell, he wasn't even sure how long had passed since he arrived at the hospital. It could have been hours, days, or even weeks. But oddly enough the scene was the same. That part he knew was a nightmare.

Their arrival at the hospital had been greeted with frantic doctors and nurses, who all fired off questions towards Lou. He was glad that Mike was there, as the paramedic was able to relay some of the information that Lou was overwhelmed with telling.

After having Lou sign release papers, the doctors rushed Catherine towards x-ray and then to surgery. He had stood there for several long minutes, until a kind looking nurse brought him some doctors scrubs. Lou didn't realize why she brought it, until she literally led him to the bathroom by his hand, and pushed him gently in.

His shirt was covered in blood.

_Catherine's blood._

He stood there with his hands shaking. He felt horrible, and his stomach was in knots. Lou couldn't help but wonder if this is what Catherine went through when he was shot.

There was so much blood at the scene, and there was so much on his hands. He wondered if he would ever get rid of all the blood.

Lou turned the water to the sink on, washing his hands. He repeated the action three times, wincing as he flexed his fingers. They were red from the hot water, and Lou felt like he could still see the blood.

Finally, he shut the water off, and pulled his shirt over his head. He replaced it with the scrub top then quickly exited the bathroom.

He wasn't surprised to see Ray, Nick, Brass, and a notably pale Greg waiting in the waiting room. Sara was the only member of the team missing, which was understandable considering that she was away with Grissom. Lou figured that Brass or Nick had called her to let her know what was going on.

"Hey, Lou, is she okay?" Nick was the first to spot Lou, and the group moved toward him. "Where is she now?"

"They were taking her for x-rays then were going to determine what to do, but the doctors seemed to be leaning toward surgery to at least get the bullet out. She's stable at the moment, but the doctors are very worried about her knee. The paramedic at the scene said her kneecap was likely shattered," Lou said to the group quietly.

Nick closed his eyes, while Ray and Greg stood there silently. They knew that Catherine was tough, but a knee injury that serious was something that would likely take her down for a long time, if not permanently.

"Are you okay, Lou?" Greg finally asked. "You have some blood on your pants."

"I'm fine," Lou answered tiredly. "It's all her blood." The guilt in his voice was evident. Brass stepped forward.

"Lou, this is not your fault. Catherine was just caught in the crossfire-"

"How can you say that, Brass?" Lou interrupted. "How can you say that? We provoked them, and they responded in the only way that they know! Catherine is the one who is suffering, and will continue to suffer, for the rest of her life!"

Brass was silent. The truth was, he did feel extremely guilty about what happened to Catherine. He didn't know what to say in order to make Lou feel better. After all, she was fighting for her well being thanks to decisions that he and Lou had made.

The five men milled around the room silently for several hours. They alternated between pacing, sitting, and taking short trips to the bathroom or vending machines. They didn't talk, mainly due the exhaustion as sleep deprivation fell over most of Catherine's friends.

Finally, a young looking doctor came through the doors. He looked around. Lou hoped that this kid wasn't Catherine's doctor. The doctor looked young enough to be Lou's son. Like he was too young to even suture a small wound.

"Family of Catherine Willows?" the doctor called.

"I'm Lou Vartann," he said, suppressing a moan as he stood. "How's Catherine?"

"I have good and bad news," the doctor said with a sigh. Lou paled, while Ray, Nick, and Greg stood there with apprehension on their faces. Jim took a step forward standing behind Lou should his knees weaken.

"What's wrong, Doctor?" Nick asked. "Is Catherine okay?"

The doctor looked warily at the group, unsure of who to answer. "It's okay," Lou finally spoke up after a long moment of silence. "They are all her family."

The doctor nodded in response. "Well, the good news is, the bullet is out, and Ms. Willows is stable." A collective sigh of relief was heard at the news.

Everyone sighed except for Lou.

"What's the bad news?" he asked softly.

"The bad news is that Ms. Willows' knee is completely shattered. When we took out the bullet, we had an orthopedic surgeon look at her knee. There's no way to save the kneecap, so we are going to have to do a total knee replacement surgery," the doctor stated looking around at the worried faces.

"It's an extremely painful process. After the initial surgery she would stay in the hospital for about a week. She would then go to a rehabilitation center for about two more weeks and outpatient procedures for another two months. Over all we are looking at least four to five months to recover."

He paused, taking in the sudden grim looks around him before continuing.

"There was a lot of damage to the surrounding ligaments and muscle due to the bullet. At this point, it is not looking good. Catherine is a strong, healthy woman, but with an injury this intense, she may never walk normally again. She will probably always have a limp, and she will have trouble ambling around crime scenes. She won't have the same range of motion in her knee."

"What are you saying?" Greg asked worriedly, his voice thick with illness. He glanced at Ray, who seemed to be the only one who understood what the doctor was implying. "What's he mean, Ray?"

Ray swallowed slightly, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Chances are, Catherine's career as a CSI may be over. If she can't bend or squat at crime scenes, if she can't walk properly, then she is a liability," Ray told them all. The doctor's affirmative nod confirmed Ray's statement to the group.

It was quiet for several moments. Each person was lost in their own thoughts, thinking of how unfair it was that Catherine's career was pretty much over due to senseless violence.

"Can I see her?" Lou finally asked, emotion thick in his voice. He knew how much this was going to upset Catherine, and he wasn't looking forward to being the one to tell her. But at the moment, he just needed to see her.

"Yes, you can," the doctor said sympathetically. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you better news," he addressed the group. "Right now, Ms. Willows needs your love and support more than ever."

The team was silent as Lou followed the doctor's beckon. They all stood there, watching as Lou vanished down a hallway. They all looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

"I'll call Doc Robbins," Ray finally said, dialing the number and walking away. "He can tell the lab and David."

"I'll call Lindsey," Greg volunteered, pulling out his phone.

"How do you have Catherine's daughter's number?" Nick asked trying to lighten the grim mood.

"We're actually good friends," Greg answered. "We've been friends for about four years now. Linds has the same scientific interests as me. Catherine brought Lindsey into the lab a few years ago. We clicked back then. We got to talking about things like video games and movies and the rest was history." He dialed the younger Willows' number, turning away from the group to have a difficult conversation.

Nick nodded in response, pulling out his cell phone. He found Sara's number. He had talked to her earlier, and she was on her way to the airport to come home.

Now he needed to give her and her husband the bad news…the very same bad news that he knew that he was going to have to repeat over and over.

~/~

Meanwhile, Lou followed the doctor down the hall, fear settling in his chest. He was worried about Catherine, and couldn't help but to compare his injury to hers. Her injury was much, much worse than his. His was only debilitating for a few weeks. This was going to change Catherine's life forever.

The doctor spoke up, breaking Lou out of his musings. "At the moment, Catherine is stable. We have her knee heavily wrapped and as long as she keeps it still and clean for a few days, we will be able to do the surgery without any problem," he told Lou.

Lou nodded running a tired hand over his face. The idea of Catherine in the hospital was bad enough, now news about her knee was almost unbearable. And it was getting worse by the minute. "Doc…honestly, do you think that she may never walk normally again?" Lou asked softly.

The doctor sighed. "I don't want to get your hopes up. An injury this serious can take a long time to recover. If she even does recover," he said. "However, Catherine is in remarkable health, so that is on her side. It's going to take her will, and her desire to get better."

Lou nodded again, remaining silent. They finally stopped in front of a private room. "She's still pretty out of it," the doctor warned. "She's probably going to be out of it for awhile."

Lou didn't answer and instead walked hesitantly toward Catherine seeing the heavy brace supporting her knee and the traction that elevated it.

A twinge of sadness tugged at his heartstrings as he realized that the brace represented a huge change in her life. She would be devastated when she found out that her career was probably over.

Lou closed his eyes, remembering working desperately with Jim to stop the bleeding, trying to keep the limb elevated. He also wondered what her knee looked like underneath the heavy padding. Lou shuddered, thinking of the damage to her knee, not to mention her lifestyle, that Catherine had endured.

A blood pressure cuff was wrapped around her frail arm. Two IV's stuck out of her hands. One filled with saline, the other with a painkiller. Catherine was pale, but she looked peaceful. She had no idea of the pain that was yet to come.

Lou pulled up a chair, taking a seat next to Catherine. He carefully took her hand is his, running his thumbs over her soft skin.

"I'm here, Catherine," he said quietly. "I'm here with you. I promise. It's going to be a long road to recovery, but I will be there with you the entire way."

She briefly opened her eyes, taking him in with a drowsy look. Her eyes were unfocused, but Lou knew that she sensed he was there with her more than actually saw him. She smiled tiredly, squeezing his hand as best as possible.

"I'm here with you, Catherine," Lou repeated. "And I'm going to be with you every step of the way."

Catherine nodded, the words not really processing. Her eyes slipped closed again, and Lou brought her hand to his lips.

"I promise."

~/~

End Part 2


	3. Chapter 3

Author Notes: Thanks to the few of you who took the time to review last time. It always means a lot and really helps to motivate to get the next chapter out. Please take a few seconds to let me know what you think. It means the world to me. –K.

Enjoy chapter 3! And be warned, Grumpy Cath is ahead…

~/~

Catherine cringed in pain. The therapist bent her leg as she clenched the table. She buried her head in her arm, resisting the urge to cry out. The pain was horrible, probably the worst pain that she had ever experienced.

"Try not to be tense, Catherine," the therapist encouraged. "It won't hurt as much."

"I'm trying," Catherine groaned, her body rigid as she lay face down on a medical table. "Please, stop. I can't take it anymore!"

The therapist frowned slightly, holding Catherine's leg in place for several long moments before finally easing it back.

She rolled her stool so that she was next to Catherine's face. The redhead looked utterly spent. Catherine had her face plastered to the table. Her fiery red strands were soaked with sweat. The therapist waited until Catherine looked at her, her blue eyes filled with tears threatening to spill over at any moment.

"It's been three weeks since your surgery, Catherine, and your second week at the rehabilitation center," she began gently. "I'm very worried about your progress. At this point, you should be off the crutches and at least using a cane. I should also be able to bend your knee 45 degrees without pain. Are you trying to walk without crutches?"

"Yes," Catherine lied. The truth was, her injury had done a lot of damage to her leg muscles. But she wasn't doing enough exercises to strengthen those muscles. As a result, she often found herself not trying to put weight on her knee.

The therapist gave her a doubtful look then asked, "Are you doing your exercises on your own time?"

"Yes." Another lie. The truth was, it was just too painful to do the damn exercises.

The therapist paused for a moment, then said, "You know Catherine, I'm sure it's hard for you to accept..."

"No, you don't," Catherine snapped as she cut her off. "I was gunned down by a bunch of thugs who haven't been caught yet. My career is pretty much over. All you do is sit here all day and make old people bend their legs. So how can you say that you know this is difficult?" she asked bitterly.

The therapist paused. Catherine had a good point. "Maybe understand was the wrong word," she said gently. "I can sympathize-"

"I don't want your sympathy!" Catherine all but growled, grabbing her crutches from the side wall. "I don't want anyone's sympathy!"

"We're not finished," the therapist protested. "We still have fifteen minutes and-"

"We're finished." Catherine rudely cut her off, pivoting her body and walking away from the therapist, making sure to put some pressure on her knee until she rounded the corner.

Then, she cringed in pain again, immediately lifting her leg to ease the pain.

Catherine maneuvered her way to her room easily. She wanted nothing but to lay down and think about Lou and to forget about everyone and everything that was currently making her life horrible.

_At least I get to go home in two days, _she thought to herself. That was the only bright spot she could see in the foreseeable future. She could be miserable at home with her own things instead of miserable and stuck at this center with people that were at least fifteen years her senior.

Catherine was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't see the two men hovering outside of her door until she was right next to them. They were the last people that she wanted to see, but she managed to display a tight smile for them.

"Hi," she said to Jim Brass and Lou Vartann.

She noticed the way both of them flicked their gazes to her swollen knee. Catherine twisted her body slightly, trying to keep their gaze off her leg. There was a three inch scar that was still healing from the gunshot wound, along with an eight inch scar from the knee replacement surgery. Her muscles were weak, thus making her leg look terrible. She cursed to herself, making a mental note to change back into the comfortable yoga pants she usually donned. The therapist required that she wore shorts for their sessions, leaving her feeling exposed. It was a feeling she didn't like or accept very well.

"Hey," Lou said smiling back at Catherine. Jim simply nodded at her, unsure of what to say.

_That rarely happened_, Catherine noted to herself. The senior homicide detective and her friend found it hard to talk to her. For some reason, it irritated her.

"How are you?" Catherine finally asked, breaking the silence that fell over the trio.

"I'm okay," Lou answered. "Missing you."

Another flash of annoyance appeared on her face. Catherine wasn't exactly sure why everything Lou said was so touchy to her.

"Huh," Catherine all but grunted in reply.

"How are _you_?" Jim asked.

Catherine swung her eyes to him, taking him in. Jim looked extremely uncomfortable, almost as if he had been forced to come along with Lou. "I'm okay," Catherine finally answered him. "Tired," she added pointedly.

"Well, we won't stay long," Lou answered smoothly. "We just wanted to see how you were." A nod from the redhead was the only indication that she heard his words. "Can we go in your room?"

"Yeah," Catherine grumbled as she swung her body and headed into the room.

Lou's eyes dropped down to her leg noting that she was keeping weight off her knee. He frowned to himself making a mental note to say something to Catherine about that when she wasn't so moody.

He had been there when the doctor explained everything to Catherine about the surgery and recovery. He also knew what the doctor told her about her rehabilitation and the potential end of her career as an investigator didn't sit well with her.

She had been predictably devastated, and seemed to have desire leave her body as soon as she heard the news. However, Lou knew that Catherine still had fire and drive within her, even if she was feeling sorry for herself.

"I thought you were supposed to be trying to put more weight on your knee," Lou said casually, deciding that now was probably the most appropriate time. He couldn't see Catherine's face, but he was sure that she was probably either rolling her eyes or biting the inside of her cheek.

Her back stiffened. Lou knew that his words were unwelcome.

"I'm trying," Catherine couldn't help the snappy tone connected to her voice. "In case you forgot, my muscles are weak thanks to the gunshot."

Lou blanched slightly exchanging a wary look with Jim. This was something they went through every time he visited. He made a general comment or statement, and Catherine got mad.

There was an awkward silence for a long moment as Lou and Jim watched Catherine struggle to get into the bed. Jim could tell that Lou was fighting the urge to help Catherine. They both knew, however, she wouldn't be receptive to a helping hand. At least not at the moment.

She finally settled into the bed, pulling her blanket up to her waist despite the warmth in the room. Lou knew that she was sensitive about the long, healing scar on her knee as well as the smaller but still noticeable one from the gunshot.

"Still no roommate?" Lou asked, mainly to break the silence.

It was a pointless question, and all three in the room knew it.

"No, and I hope it stays that way," Catherine answered.

Jim frowned slightly. This was the first time he had seen Catherine since she came to the rehabilitation center, and her attitude was not what he expected. She seemed bitter and feeling sorry for herself, which was not in her normal character. She also looked thinner and exhausted, like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"How is therapy going?" he finally asked.

Catherine shrugged half-heartedly, playing with the edge of her blanket. "It's going," she answered. "Slowly."

"Have you been doing your exercises?" Lou asked.

A slight glare went his way. "Yes," Catherine snapped. "It's not my fault that my knee isn't cooperating."

Lou sighed slightly glancing at the door. Catherine was in one of her moods again. Last time he visited, she picked a fight with him. Then she ignored him until he gave up trying to talk to her and finally left.

Jim cleared his throat and Lou glanced over his way. Jim looked pointedly at the door and Lou nodded slightly.

"Look, Cath," Lou spoke up. "We just wanted to say hello, but now doesn't seem to be a good time."

Catherine felt a flash of guilt cross over her heart. She knew that she was being unreasonable, but she just couldn't help it. This whole situation sucked. Her life had changed in a millisecond, and it was kind of difficult to accept.

"I'm sorry," Catherine finally whispered hoarsely. "I just…you're right. Now isn't a good time."

Lou sighed softly, hesitantly stepping forward pressing a soft kiss on Catherine's forehead. "I'll be in tomorrow," he promised.

Catherine nodded meekly, watching as he and Jim left. She sighed softly, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. She sat like that for about fifteen seconds before a knock sounded at her door.

She groaned to herself, forcing her eyes open. She let out a grunt of annoyance when her doctor stepped into the room. "Ms. Willows, how are you today?" he asked ignoring her irritated look.

"I'd be better if I could get a nap in," Catherine said with some annoyance in her voice. "I'm tired and sore."

"Well, we will let you get to that in a few minutes," the doctor said smoothly. "We have a few things to discuss."

Catherine huffed to herself, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yes?" she asked.

"Is it okay if I pull the blanket down?" the doctor asked, choosing to ignore her obvious hostile attitude.

She made a gesture with her hand that indicated to go ahead. The doctor carefully pulled the blanket back, his eyes focused solely on her left knee. He frowned as he looked at it, sliding his hand underneath her knee gently.

He lifted her leg, forcing her to bend the limb. She hissed in pain, unable to hold back the gasp that escaped her mouth at the surprise move. Catherine bit her lip as he moved her knee around more.

Finally, the small torture session was over, and the doctor allowed her leg to drop back down. He sat back in his chair, looking at Catherine with concern.

"What?" she finally asked warily, pulling the blanket up again. "What's wrong?"

"Well, Ms. Willows," the doctor began. "Your rehabilitation isn't going as well as we thought it would at this point."

"I was shot in the knee. What do you expect?" Catherine asked, irritation lacing her voice.

"I expect you to at least be walking with a cane at this point," the doctor answered.

"I'm trying," Catherine began. "It hurts, though."

"We're doing our part," the doctor cut her off. "But if you aren't doing your therapy, how are you going to get better?"

"I am," Catherine protested. "I just…it's hard."

"You're not, Catherine," the doctor retorted as gently as possible. "Your leg muscles are incredibly weak. It's obvious that you aren't doing your part. We can only do so much to help you. _You _need to do _your _part," he emphasized.

Catherine was silent for a long moment, and the doctor continued. He knew that the redhead wasn't going to be receptive to his next statement. "I can't see sending you home this week. It's my orders that you stay in rehab at least another two weeks. Or until you can use your cane."

Catherine looked at him sharply. "You can't do that!" she sputtered.

"I can, and I am," the doctor said calmly, standing up.

"I'll check myself out then," Catherine said stubbornly.

"It doesn't work that way, Ms. Willows," the doctor said patiently. "It's a finished deal."

She stared at him as he stood up and walked toward the door. He paused at the door, then looked back at her. "By the way, you're going to be getting a roommate," the doctor said. "She'll be arriving in two hours."

Catherine's eyes widened at the news as her mouth fell open. She had no clue what to say. The doctor left the room and Catherine slammed her eyes shut before a tear could slip out.

It was too late, though. The tears fell anyway.

~/~

Catherine wasn't sure when she fell asleep, but through a sleepy haze she heard whispering voices. She didn't open her eyes, but her training as a CSI helped her focus on what was going on around her.

She heard at least three different voices, two obviously elderly and one of a doctor who was aiding the pair. They spoke in hushed voices, not wanting to wake Catherine – or at least attempt to.

"She seems young to be in rehab," the woman said, her voice strong. Catherine knew that the 'she' in the statement was her. She didn't dare open her eyes, though, instead choosing to continue listening.

"It's hard being away from home," the older woman said. "I hope that we can get along well. I know that if you have company during these types of recoveries, it makes the time pass faster."

Catherine felt a pang of guilt cross over her when she thought about how terrible she had been acting around the staff, doctors, and her friends over the last few weeks. If this newcomer only knew, she'd probably never want to even talk to her.

"How are you doing, Mrs. Heggens?" the doctor asked.

"I'm fine," the woman dismissed. "It's just a shoulder replacement."

Their voices were to the left of Catherine now, and she dared a peek at the woman. She wasn't very tall and looked frail. Her husband gripped her hand strongly, helping the woman to walk, even as she looked like she didn't need it. Her left arm was in a sling.

What was most striking was the woman's hair. It was the same fiery red as Catherine's, though hers was shorter and curlier. Catherine closed her eyes, still pretending to be asleep.

The smell of her untouched dinner suddenly assaulted her nostrils and Catherine's stomach flipped. She wasn't hungry at all and had no desire to even take the cover off her food. Her stomach was in knots from the earlier news that the doctor gave her.

She felt drowsy all of a sudden, the voices of her new roommate and the doctor fading as she fell back asleep.

Catherine awoke several hours later, the pressure on her bladder waking her out of a deep slumber that she had not had in awhile. She shifted slightly, cringing as she realized that she needed to get to the bathroom, and fast.

The room was dark, and Catherine's roommate's deep breaths indicated that it was late in the night. Catherine swung her legs over the edge of the bed, flexing her feet slightly. She was relieved when she only felt a slight pull in her knee.

"I don't need extra rehab," Catherine scoffed softly to herself, mindful of the elderly woman just a curtain away. "I probably don't even need the crutches."

She hopped off the bed, putting all of her weight on her right leg. She took a hesitant step, leaning against the bed for support until she entered the small hallway leading to the bathroom. Her confidence grew with each step as she hobbled heavily on her right leg to the bathroom.

_This is a piece of cake,_ Catherine thought smugly. _If I can do this tomorrow, then surely the doctor will allow me to go home sooner. _

Then, her world came crashing down.

Catherine wasn't sure whether her foot slipped, or if her knee gave out on her, or if there was a loose board in the floor. Either way, her feet shot out from under her. She twisted her body, working to protect her already damaged knee. In the fraction of time that she was in the air, she had figured that in order to keep her stay from being even longer than two additional weeks, she would have to avoid hurting her knee even more.

She landed with a crash, her elbow striking the ground first and leaving a scrape along her forearm. Her hip struck next, but luckily, she was able to keep the knee from hitting the ground. Somewhere along the line, her jaw struck the ground, blood filling her mouth almost instantly.

Catherine laid there for several long moments, her first instinct to simply stay on until someone came and helped her up. However, the threatening pressure on her bladder made for a potentially embarrassing situation. She cringed, rolling her body so she was sitting on her bottom. _She had no idea how she was going to get back to her feet…_

Suddenly, her elderly roommate materialized, seemingly out of nowhere.

Catherine looked up, tears filling her eyes instinctively, almost out of embarrassment. She looked helplessly at the woman. She noted that it was _almost _like looking into a mirror, as she found herself staring at icy blue eyes.

"Are you okay dear?" the woman asked kindly.

"Yes, ma'am," Catherine answered timidly. "But I…I have to go to the bathroom." She felt herself flush bright red at the admittance.

"All right, let's get you up then," the woman said.

Catherine blinked in surprise. "How are you-?" she began to ask.

Before Catheirne knew it, the woman leaned down, seizing Catherine's right arm with her hand. With strength that Catherine did not expect, the elderly woman pulled Catherine to a standing position. She held a steadying hand on Catherine's elbow, helping her to the bathroom.

"Thanks," Catherine said sheepishly once they got to the door.

"Go ahead dear," the woman said kindly. "I'll wait for you."

For some reason, Catherine didn't feel irritated at the offer like she had with so many other people. Instead, she merely nodded, closing the door and leaning heavily against the wall to get to the toilet.

She felt relieved after she went to the bathroom and used the bar to pull herself to her feet. Her knee was throbbing from this unexpected workout. She assessed the other damage in the mirror.

Catherine had a dollar sized scrape on her arm, but it wasn't bleeding. She pulled down her shorts slightly, wincing at the bruise that was already forming on her hip. A small cut dotted her lip, but luckily that was all that seemed to be the cause of the blood trickling from her lip.

With a shaking hand, she filled a paper cup and rinsed out her mouth. She took a few long seconds to get her bearings before opening the door.

She wasn't surprised in the least to see that the older woman had held up to her promise. She took Catherine's arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. Catherine wanted to protest out of fear of hurting the woman, but for some reason she couldn't seem to raise the effort or courage to speak up.

Catherine leaned against the woman heavily as she aided her back to her bed. She helped Catherine into the bed, pulling the blanket up Catherine's shivering form to her chin. As an afterthought, she walked across the room, grabbing a worn afghan that was not issued by the rehabilitation center and spread it over Catherine's body as well.

"Thanks," Catherine managed through her chattering teeth. She felt somewhat comforted when the woman sat on the edge of her bed instead of going back to her own.

"You okay? That was quite the spill. Quite possibly a seven or eight on the impression scale."

Catherine turned slightly red then smiled. Her own reaction surprised her slightly. If Lou or a nurse would have said that, she probably would have gotten angry.

"I'm okay," Catherine finally admitted. "I feel a little silly though."

"Don't feel silly," the woman answered with a wave of her hand. "We all fall at some point." Catherine nodded, and the woman continued. "What's your name dear?"

"Catherine. Catherine Willows," she answered. There was a slight beat as the woman processed this, wondering where she had heard the name before. Catherine didn't provide the clarification, though. "What's your name?" she asked before the woman could think about it even more.

"Mary Marg Heggers," the woman replied. "Just call me Mary, though. Only my mother called me Mary Marg and it drove me crazy."

Catherine laughed, the sound somewhat foreign to her. It had been way too long since she had laughed. She asked the woman, "What happened?" with a nod towards her shoulder.

"Oh, this?" Mary asked. "Just a shoulder replacement," she answered with a dismissive wave. "At the moment, it's more of a nuisance than anything. It was something that had to be done, though. Not as bad as the knee, that's for sure." She glanced at Catherine's leg, then asked, "What's your deal? You seem pretty young to have to worry about a bad knee already."

Catherine signed softly, wishing that she could bury herself under the blankets. "I, uh…I was injured at work," she began. "I'm a criminalist." A slight look of recognition crossed Mary's face, but she didn't say anything.

Catherine paused, then smiled slightly. It was actually feeling pretty good to get this out in the open. "I was investigating a shooting and when the officers and I questioned some spectators. They became angry and open fired on us. When the smoke settled, I realized that I had taken a bullet to the knee. My knee was shattered and they had to replace my knee."

She glanced at Mary, sighing slightly. "They say my career is likely over."

"Is that what you want?" Mary asked softly.

"I don't really have a choice," Catherine answered.

"That's not what I asked," Mary retorted gently.

Catherine sighed, burrowing even further under her blankets. She hesitated even more before she answered, "God, no. I love my coworkers, and I love my job. I can't do it if I'm injured though. I'm a liability."

"Couldn't you get a job doing something else within the department? A non-physical role maybe?" Mary suggested.

"Well, I am the supervisor of the grave shift, but I don't want to be stuck at a desk," Catherine admitted. "That scares me."

"What else could you do, though? Besides forensic science?"

"It would have to be something that I'd like," Catherine answered. "And at this point of my life, I have no clue what to do. All I've ever known is being a criminalist." She decided to leave out the _rest _of her history.

Mary nodded and stood up. "I should let you get to sleep. I saw the doctor write on your chart that you have an early therapy," Mary said. Catherine nodded, and almost on instinct, she yawned. Mary laughed tenderly tucking the blanket around Catherine even more. "We'll talk some more tomorrow," the older flame haired woman added.

Catherine smiled closing her eyes.

She was asleep in less than ten seconds.

~/~

When Catherine awoke, she felt more optimistic than she had in a long time, even before the bombing that had sent her life into a spiral. She felt rested, and ready to face the day. Slowly she flexed her foot. She cringed as her stiff muscles protested but Catherine pushed on. She was way behind in her self-therapy and she now realized the importance of not fighting her therapy.

Catherine slowly swung her legs to the side bending her leg carefully. Her leg protested, but it felt good at the same time. She grabbed a crutch positioning it under her right arm. She leaned heavily on the crutch, but made sure that she put some pressure on her left knee.

By the time Catherine got to the bathroom, her knee was aching. However, she felt encouraged. She grabbed her clothes from a shelf and changed as quickly as possible. She was incredibly hungry and wanted to get something to eat before her therapy.

It took her several minutes longer than usual, but Catherine made it. She was very disappointed that Mary wasn't in the breakfast lounge. She quickly ate her breakfast then showed up to therapy ten minutes earlier.

To say that her doctor and therapist were shocked that Catherine was there early, and with one less crutch was an understatement.

"Catherine," the doctor was the first to speak up. Catherine cringed at his wary tone. "Are you here for your therapy already?"

"Yes I am," Catherine answered. "And I owe you both an apology. I know I haven't been a great patient, and I'm sorry. I'm going to try harder."

The doctor and therapist glanced at each other, then looked at Catherine again. "Apology accepted," the doctor finally said. "You ready to try pushing some weights today with your leg?"

Catherine took a deep breath. The idea of putting weight on her knee sounded far from pleasant, but she was determined.

"Yes."

An hour later, Catherine found herself panting in pain, her leg on fire. She bit her lip refusing to groan.

"Are you okay?" her therapist asked gently.

"Fine," Catherine grunted, feeling sweat roll down her forehead. "Let's keep going."

The therapist looked at Catherine. "I admire your fortitude," she said with a smile. "But we are done for the time being. You can exercise on your own." Catherine didn't answer, working to get her breath back. "Plus, you have a friend here."

Catherine glanced to the door, expecting to see Lou standing there. However, she was surprised to see Doctor Al Robbins standing at the door watching her with a look of concern and admiration.

"You want to take a walk?" Al finally spoke up.

Silently, Catherine nodded wondering why her longtime friend was paying her a visit.

~/~

Catherine and Al slowly walked to the outside of the rehabilitation facility, taking their time as they walked. The coroner looked at Catherine. All of the frustration, exhaustion, and pain from the last three weeks were taking a toll in her. Al could see the tiredness set on her features, yet the fire that had been missing since the accident had returned.

Eventually, the pair made their way to a bench, Catherine all but collapsing into it. She leaned her head back, basking in the warm sun for several long moments before looking around. The courtyard was really beautiful. This was the first time that she had been outside since she had come to the facility.

There were several flowers blooming in the well kept garden. There were at least a dozen benches spread out through the area allowing visitors to stroll around the grounds. It was extremely welcoming and relaxing.

For several minutes, the pair sat in silence. Al watched Catherine out of the corner of his eye, noting the mellow look on her face. He hadn't seen her so calm in a long time, even before the accident.

"So what's going on Cath?" Al finally broke the silence. "How's the knee?"

"It's…there," Catherine answered opening her eyes and looking at him. "I kinda got a dose of reality from my new roommate yesterday. I'm more motivated now."

"That's good," Al answered. "What was keeping you from being motivated before?"

Catherine shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at Al's leg. "I don't know," Catherine answered truthfully. "I guess I'm just scared because I have no clue what is going to happen." There was a slight pause, then she added, "I guess I'm used to depending only on myself, and it seems like now I am going to need help. And I don't want to ask for it."

"What do you mean?"

Catherine sighed. "I just…" she trailed off, memories crossing her mind as she contemplated her words. "All my life, for the most part, I could really only depend on me. My mom and dad really weren't there that often as parents, and forget about being there as a friend. All the men I dated when I was younger let me down, or cheated on me. And Eddie…Eddie was a class of his own. I had so many trust issues."

There was a long pause, and Al waited for her to continue. "I started dancing as a way to support myself when I met Eddie. I thought he was the one. I trusted him, and I really believed that we were going to be together forever. But then he turned out to be just like the others, if not worse. He persuaded me get drunk all the time and he got me hooked on drugs. I couldn't stop at that point even if I tried. I rarely ate, and I didn't care about anything, really. Then came Lindsey. I thought that she would be my saving grace, but no. Eddie kept on treating me like crap. I couldn't trust him, or any of the other dancers."

There was a long beat of silence as Catherine thought back, her eyes stormy as she remembered the lowest point of her life. "But didn't you meet Grissom and Brass around that time?" Al asked, breaking her out of her musing.

A ghost of a smile crossed Catherine's lips, and she nodded. "I had just found out that I was pregnant. The last thing that I wanted to do was to step on stage and dance. But I did because I still loved Eddie and thought that since I was pregnant, everything would be okay. One night I did step on stage, looking the way I always did, and saw a group of men there I hadn't seen before. Half the men there that night were hooting and hollering and the other half looked totally uncomfortable, like they didn't want to be there. Nothing unusual, though. It was something I saw every night."

"I danced, and I couldn't help but notice that the men who were uncomfortable at first were now yelling as well, but two of the men were still hanging back. One was tall and well kept, and the other was shorter and looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. I knew that look. It was the same one that I usually had. They mainly kept to themselves, but I kept seeing them looking at me with guilty looks on their faces. Not at my body," Catherine clarified, "But my face. They looked sympathetic, almost as if they wanted to take me home, feed me, and let me sleep."

"Later that night on my break, I had gone outside because I knew that Eddie would be out there smoking. He asked me if I wanted to smoke, and I said no. He scoffed and asked if I was trying to quit or something, and I said no. I was pregnant. He didn't take the news very well. He grabbed me by the throat, and shoved me against the wall, then asked me who the father was. I struggled to tell him that it was him, and he raised a fist to hit me. The two men from earlier, Jim and Gil, as I would later learn, were walking by and stopped him from hitting me. Then they did just what I thought they would do: took me to a diner, then back to Gil's so I could get some good sleep."

"We got to talking the next day, and when I found out he worked for the crime lab, I told Gil that I was interested in forensics. Gil told me about some night classes that he was teaching and helped me to sign up for a student loan and classes that very day. For the first time I felt like I could trust someone."

She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Eddie came crawling back to me. I know it hurt Jim and Gil, but I took him back. I had to. But this time, I had backup. Eddie behaved himself for the most part. But once Lindsey was born, he went back to his old ways. He threatened Gil and Jim, and I was terrified to say anything. Eventually everything came to a head and somehow I found the strength to leave him."

Catherine blinked as she fought her memories, sighing softly as she looked at Al finally. "I had so many trust issues since then, even more than before. Jim and Gil are a class by themselves, and of course I trust my coworkers. They are the only ones that I have ever been able to count on. Sara, Warrick, Nicky, Greg, Brass, Lou…you, David. Even Hodges. And now that I'm facing this," she gestured to her outstretched, damaged knee, "I feel like I'm alone again."

"But you're not alone, Catherine," Al interjected gently. "You have so many friends who are willing to help you."

"But that's the thing, Al," Catherine said. "I'm not used to people helping me. I'm used to being alone."

"You don't have to be alone," Al retorted. "Trust me. I know." He gestured to his leg.

Catherine glanced at his leg, then looked up at him. "What happened to your leg, Al? I'm embarrassed to admit that I don't even know."

"Don't be," Al shrugged. "It's not something that I talk about." Seeing Catherine nod in acceptance, he sighed.

"I was right out of med school, I had gone to a concert with a friend," Al began. "He lived next door to me. He had gotten plastered, and I was completely sober. I hadn't had a drink all night. I drove him home. We were less than a mile from home when a pickup truck driver ran a red light. He had fallen asleep at the wheel and accelerated though the light. I didn't see him coming."

"The truck hit my side. We spun around and slammed into a tree. Joey was fine, but I was pinned for an hour while we waited for help. As a result, I lost my leg." He glanced over, seeing the sympathy in Catherine's eyes. "At first, I was bitter and angry. Here I was, twenty-nine years old, ready to start my career, and it was over. I was mad at my friend, my family, my girlfriend, even the doctors." A look of recognition crossed Catherine's face as she realized that she had the same feelings as Al did. "I didn't want any help. I wanted to do it all on my own. I pushed people away."

He looked at Catherine's leg. "In a way, Catherine, you're lucky. Lou is too."

"Lucky?" Catherine asked, somewhat skeptical.

"The injury to my leg was in the same area as yours. They had to amputate," Al told her.

This caught Catherine off guard. _In other words, I should be happy that I have my leg,_ Catherine realized. She looked at Al. "I'm embarrassed to admit this," Catherine said carefully, "But I think part of it too is that I don't want people to look at me differently. I didn't ask for this. I guess I'm scared that they will look at me with sympathy or that they will think that I can't do things by myself." She paused. "I don't want sympathy. I may have this…this handicap, but I still want to be the same person. I still want to be the supervisor."

Al nodded in agreement. "And there will be people who coddle you and want to do everything for you," Al informed her. "But you have to remember. They thought they were going to lose you. They could have. You can accept a little help once in awhile, Catherine. You don't need to be alone at this point in your life. You have a lot of people who care for you. Especially Lou Vartann."

They were quiet for long minutes as Catherine contemplated his words. Finally, she glanced at the man she had worked with for twenty-six years.

"Does it get easier?" Catherine asked hoarsely, a tear trickling down her cheek.

Al smiled gently, taking Catherine's frail hand in his. "It will," he whispered. "I promise."

Catherine nodded in satisfaction. She laid her head on Al's shoulder. He wrapped an arm over her shoulder, and together they sat in silence.

No more words were needed.


End file.
